A gay, gay, day.

So this weekend was Nottinghamshire Pride.

It has been rebranded. Once upon a time (well, last year) it was Nottingham Pride. Quite why we have the 'shire' added I don't know. It's not as though it was held in the shire - it wasn't, it was within the city boundary. Nor is it as though those in the shire have previously felt alienated or in any other way excluded. I don't even think it opens it up to any additional funding from the County Council. And it isn't as though Londonshire or Birminghamshire struggle.

Anyway, Pride events generally should be about three things:
A reflection of the fight that people have gone through in order achieve our current position;
An acknowledgement of our diversity; and
An acceptance that true equality has still not been achieved and that we are not at an 'end', that more work still needs to be done.

Obviously for most people it is about dressing up, drinking and dancing. Oh, and blowing whistles.

I've never understood what it is about gays and whistles. Perhaps it is the noise so closely resembling a gay squark.

Anyhow, I went along to show my pride. Well, actually, I did - I went along as a member of the community and as part of the football team 'building community links' and all that guff. And I did my bit, marching with the banner, standing on the stall, drinking.

Yes, lots of drinking was involved. So much so that I actually didn't make it out in the evening. Well, that's not true, I 'made it out' in the evening only because I didn't go home. But I didn't manage to stay out after 9:30pm. This is what you get from trying to consume your daily intake of calories from beer alone. I think I may have had a sandwich at one point. I definitely had a snog though...

As we were walking round the litter-strew field (despite there being many bins around, the gays seem unable to walk to dispose of their rubbish properly. They also get flyered quite heavily by the local bars trying to get them out drinking later, something which clearly failed with me) with a couple of friends I saw a rather cute lad laid down with some friends. We made eye-contact and smiled and so I had to carry on walking past. I get too shy around people and can't go over and talk to them. It didn't help that I was in my football kit replete with rather tight shorts and "big cock" splashed over my back. That is the name on the shirt, not just an oversized strap-on. Anyhow, the lad sent his friend over to come and get me and I now have a date on Wednesday night.

I may have sobered up by then.